


comity

by soniagiris



Series: the slivers of life [3]
Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Bonding, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Munakata Kyosuke/Yukizome Chisa - mentioned, Post-Canon, Smoking, Underage Smoking, Unusual Friendships, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10039181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soniagiris/pseuds/soniagiris
Summary: But she's cold in her ratty tracksuit and bunny slippers. And alon-"Kirigiri-san," someone says.Okay, not alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

>   * beta by vee @ikuzonos, thank you!!!
>   * shrugs
>   * warnings in the author notes
> 


"For fuck's sake."  
Click. Click. Click. No fire. No _fucking_ fire. Kyoko tightens her lips around the cigarette, blinking owlishly at the damn lighter. Next time someone attempts to convince her that life isn't shit, she's going to teach this foolish someone a thing. Or two. Maybe even three thing. Yeah, sure, whatever. But first, she has to get declared healthy. Right now she's thinking about how damn rad trees growing bubblegum would be. Really hella rad, yo, my fellow kids. Hell, Kyoko Kirigiri, the de-facto leader of about half of the Future Foundation, former Super High School Level Detective, and, unofficially, one great babe, she's now having the thought process of an elementary student high on saccharides.   
Fucking hell.   
At least the doctors got tired of her constant grumpiness, took better care of her damaged lung, brought it back to a minty fresh condition, and then they gave Kyoko a pack of smokes. And, thank fuck, none of this Seven Stars bullshit that tastes like uranium, Russia, and regret. She got Marlboros, now bow to her, ladies, gents (and everyone else who doesn't fit into the gender binary). When Togami saw her proudly puffing out the sweetly bitter smoke, he briefly forgot the entire Japanese language and kept swearing at her in German. Kyoko just told him to piss off. In Russian, to make her point. Which reminds her...   
"Ya usnula v kamere pytok," she sings quietly to herself, then briskly rubs her bad forearm. Fuck, she's cold. And vaguely sad. And — why on earth did she decide to go out for a smoke in the middle of a March night? Her own reasonings and priorities elude her. Well.   
At least it's not snowing.   
Anymore.   
But she's cold in her ratty tracksuit and bunny slippers. And alon—   
"Kirigiri-san," someone says.   
Okay, not alone. Kyoko is about to whip around, a scathing remark coming up on her tongue, but then something heavy falls on her shoulders. She can smell mint, gunpowder, and ash. She touches the white silk, frowns.   
"Munakata-kun," she replies as she's bending down to pick up her cigarette from where it lies on the concrete sidewalk. "Such a surprise to see you between the commoners."   
"You are mistaking me with that companion of yours," Munakata-kun says smoothly, then hands her a box of matches. Kyoko raises her brows at that, too taken aback to protest about Togami being called her friend. (He was her family, but not a friend, let's not get hasty).   
"Didn't take you for a smoker."   
"Sakakura was one. He kept losing his lighter, so I had— well, still have this habit of carrying matches with me." Munakata-kun plops down beside her on the shitty, rusty bench as he's fixing his cufflinks. They glint in the hazy light of the lantern, so does his fleeting grin. "It was our inside joke: a box of matches for a boxer who won all his matches."   
He says the second part of the sentence in English, his vowels hardened in a light accent. Kyoko snickers.   
"That's one bad pun," she says fondly. Munakata-kun tiredly smiles to her.   
"Chisa came up with it."   
Kyoko can't help but notice the dull pain tainting the first word. She tastes iron.   
Okay, everyone and their mother knows Kyoko kinda sucks at emotion. All of the emotion. She knows how they work, but prefers action to talking. Makoto's the one who talks shit and, more often than not, gets hit. Spoiler warning: Kyoko Kirigiri doesn't get hit. Her punches has made grown-ass men cry.

But, right now, she doesn't quite want to make Munakata-kun cry. The poor man has grieved enough. And, even now, the muscles in his arms are so rigid Kyoko sees them through his thin, cotton shirt.  
Letting out smoke through her nose, Kyoko reaches out and pokes Munakata-kun in the ribs. He makes a startled sound.   
"Oi," Kyoko mutters. "When I'm finally able to walk for longer than ten minutes, we're going to the library and I’m teaching you some Russian." She pulls the jacket closer to her body and looks at the man. The vision in her eye is still blurry, but she can see how Munakata-kun furrows his brow in confusion.   
"Why?" he asks slowly.   
"So many puns," she shoots back. "And curses."   
"Kirigiri." Munakata-kun blinks his one eye at her. "Are you... okay?"   
"Am I ever." Kyoko shrugs.   
They don't laugh at that, but, hey, give them time.   
One day, it's gonna be okay. For real.

It has to be.

**Author's Note:**

> a/n
> 
>   * "i got the crappiest titles on the entire ao3 website" - me, mere seconds ago
>   * **cw: medical talk; swearing; smoking; fire ment;**
>   * this has been sitting in my drafts for years (read: weeks), so here i am, posting it now, with no hope left in my withering body
> 



End file.
